


Perfect Fit

by C0c0plumb (cocoplumb)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angst, Epilepsy, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt Dean Winchester, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-11
Updated: 2010-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-03 03:01:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/376384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cocoplumb/pseuds/C0c0plumb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean has a seizure, it's the only time Sam is allowed to be the big brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect Fit

**Author's Note:**

> Re-Upload from fanfiction.net

"Hurts," Dean would always say. His head in his brother's lap, confusion and pain coating his face. Sam used to ask where, how, and do you need anything to make it better? He doesn't anymore. It's just too hard for Dean to answer.

"I know," he doesn't, but Dean doesn't call him on it, he's too dazed and too exhausted to take note of the actual words that come from his brother's mouth, the only thing he hears is the comfort in them.

"Tired."

Sam used to just nod then, he never really knew what else to say, but he learned that Dean's eyes were so glazed over at that stage, he couldn't see much of anything, let alone him nodding his head. "Go to sleep Dean, I gotcha." It's the only time Sam is allowed to say that.

He doesn't move Dean, he lets his brother drift away into unconsciousness on the floor with his head still resting in his lap. It's routine now. He doesn't care that he loses the feeling in his calves, he doesn't care what pain it puts on his knees. He keeps himself and his brother anchored until Dean gives him the confirmation it's okay, it's all over. It's not that he can't move, it's just because Dean doesn't like to be touched when he comes out of a seizure, not even when it's just a small one where he just looks like he's staring off into space. He says even the slightest brush to his skin feels like pins and needles through his whole body, only they were daggers and knives.

Dean usually sleeps for an hour or two, his record up to press was eight straight hours, but that time the seizure had lasted longer than the five minute warning and he had to be taken to hospital. It's only happened once -the ambulance business- since his brother got diagnosed, and he hopes to hell it stays that way.

Sam doesn't turn on the TV because it might wake Dean, but sometimes he reads a book to distract himself from watching the clock, counting the minutes, even seconds of how long Dean's been out. He loses count how many times he glances from the book to his brother sleeping soundly in his lap - he'd smirk and tease him unmercifully if the situation were different.

Sometimes dad's there, it's better then, even though Sam and dad fight like two damn bulls in a ring. Dean at times takes his epilepsy as a blessing because the day he has them is the day his brother and father don't argue, not even once, not for the whole day. Dean always prayed his seizures would come in the morning, the truce lasted longer then. But even with their dad there, Sam was always the person Dean wanted close when he came to. He loved his dad and trusted him with his life, but when he was confused and hurting, he just needed Sam. It was like his dazed mind couldn't process anything but his little brother. The one time Sam was unavailable, at a friend's party or something, dad was the one left to calm him and Dean had practically had a panic attack when John tried to move him from the floor to his bed. He doesn't remember it, but he remembers dad telling him about it the next day.

So now, leaving his boys to it more or less, John would make dinner for them while Dean slept or, if it had been a particularly bad one, he'd sit on the motel floor by his sons and wait it out with them. John's job was usually to wipe the stray tears his youngest let slip out and place a comforting hand on his shoulder as tremors of fear ran through him. Even though he'd never admit it, Sam was the one who needed dad the most when it happened.

"He'll be fine Sammy, he always is." The proof Dean was always okay? They'd made it this far hadn't they? They never told Dean any of this, Sam and John both knew he'd feel guilty for upsetting his brother, but he couldn't help having epilepsy could he? Well... try telling Dean that.

When dad wasn't there, the days that passed were close terrifying with Sam on the edge of his seat just waiting for next seizure to some at the worst possible time. Dean tried to reassure his little brother all would be well, and it probably wouldn't happen. But that was just the trouble, seizures like Dean's came without warning, without a time schedule, they just hit you like a ton of bricks and mocked at you while you suffered in shock.

With it being just the two of them, Sam was left with the responsibility of his brother's health, hell his bothers life, all alone. He cried sometimes while Dean shook and his teeth chattered. He'd sob as he turned his brother on his side and moved all dangerous objects out of the way, that being everything in the room, even a pillow could be a freakin' death trap. But when he needed to, he'd wipe his eyes and get his head in gear when his brother came around.

"Hurts."

"I know."

"-urt's Sammy." Dean bites his tongue sometimes. Sam can tell because Dean then says it hurt a few more times before falling to sleep.

"It'll be okay Dean." It always is.

"Tired."

"Go to sleep big brother, I gotcha."

After a few sore days, grunting and wincing around the motel, Dean was back in form and they never speak about it until the next seizure. It embarrasses Dean, he sees it as a weakness though he'd never been held back by it, not in daily life (unless you count missing a few days here and there of school), not even in hunting. He hoped it would stay that way.

 

* * *

  
   
He always took his pills. Well, he did now anyway.

The way he acted when he got out of the hospital the first time, what was coming... wasn't exactly a surprise. The medication he was on made Dean feel like a walking zombie, and he looked even worse. It was upsetting to see the usually wise-ass, quick witted teen be sapped of life, he had no personality whatsoever, everything Dean was just gone.

Dean missed hunts, hell he missed most research sessions never mind the damn hunt, but he knew why - he was useless when doped up, was a burden, and a danger to everyone around him. But then came the day Sam needed protecting once again, some bully in the play ground, nothing major, until Dean got his ass kicked. He hadn't even had enough strength to withstand the older kids blows, let alone get some in himself.

So the next day, Dean skipped on the meds, dumped them right down the toilet and watched them wash away. It was the first time he felt human in weeks, and that bully... let's just say he went home with his nose in more pieces than he came with. A few more days without pills, Sam noticed a difference, he talked to his dad about it, but all he said was your brother's body probably just finally adjusted. It didn't settle Sam's worry, or stow the churning in the pit of his stomach, so Sam chose to ask Dean directly, why he was so perky all of a sudden, he got nothing there either, just jokes and deflection.

After a couple of weeks John thought Dean had 'adjusted' well enough to go on his first hunt again. Dean couldn't have felt more alive that day, he got to feel human, got to protect Sammy, and a bonus- he got to go hunting again.

It was the night before the hunt that Dean had the worst set of seizures Sam had ever seen in his life. As he sobbed on the motel floor, listening to the sickening crack of Dean's head colliding with the ground, he finally understood why people used to throw holy water on epileptics.

In the hospital, the blood tests confirmed Sam's fears - Dean hadn't touched his pills in weeks, not even the slightest trace of the medication was in his system - dad went ballistic. He thought he could trust that Dean was old enough, responsible enough, and he'd been let down. But that particular yelling rant lead to only another seizure, John stopped screaming at his eldest, to scream at the doctors and nurses to help his son.

When he woke up, dazed and lost, Dean shut down again, he didn't eat, barely slept, and refused to talk or even make eye contact with his father.

"M'just a fuck up Sammy."

"You're not a fuck up Dean, dad was just scared."

"Yeah right, I'm a liability to him now, to you. How the hell can I protect my family if I can't even manage to stay awake an hour without zoning out. Or how the hell am I supposed to hunt if I can't even-" the gravel in his throat cut Dean off.

"You're not a liability Dean, you never are, if you had to, mid seizure you'd be there to protect me, that's just what you do, and besides, maybe it's my turn to look out for you."

"Not gonna happen."

It already had happened, they both knew that, every time Dean had a seizure, it was Sam's turn to look out for his big brother. But that was the only time Dean would allow it, when he had absolutely no control over his own body and had to leave it in the capable hands of the one person he knew and trusted more than himself.

"There's other pills, Dean."

"Yeah right, like life's that easy."

"I'm serious Dean, there's other medications, ones that might make you not so tired but... ones that might help you not have a seizure too."

"God... hate that word," Dean spat, venom in his words.

Their little talk made Sam feel even more helpless, Dean not only cursed his condition, his epilepsy, but himself too. He was pleasantly surprised the next day when Dean asked his doctor to put him on another set of drugs, the ones his little brother talked about, he knew they existed 'cause Sammy just knew crap like that, and if he suggested it...

After a good few hundred lectures off his doctor that did about as much good as whacking Dean with a spoon, he finally started to get it. Not because the doctors told him he had to take the meds or he could die, not because his dad yelled at him then apologized for being an ass, and not because this epilepsy... his epilepsy was scaring the shit out of him, but because Sam asked him, begged him not to ever do that again.

It took a few days of adjusting, but by the time it was discharge day, Dean's new medications were working a dream, just like Sammy had said. He was Dean again - granted with an attitude problem, but Dean nonetheless - and had a rather pleasant lack of such severe seizures.

Nowadays, Dean took his pills religiously, and the seizures - though not as un-often as they would like - came and went a lot smoother, and were a lot easier on Dean's body, and Sam's mental state. Sam had been damn proud of his big brother these days, sure he got cranky, bordering on downright miserable sometimes, but mostly he just takes his pills and gets on with it, and for that matter, so did Sam. What more could you ask for?

 

* * *

  
   
"Hurts."

"I know big brother, it'll get better soon," you know it will.

"Y'kay?"

"I'm fine, you?"

"Tired."

"Go to sleep, I'll be here when you wake up."

"Th'nks S'mmy."

"No problem Dean."

The End


End file.
